


Beautiful for the Last Time

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Infinite Bad (Podcast)
Genre: Divination, Gen, Post-Season/Series 06 Finale, Season/Series 06 Spoilers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: Will you trade your body for falling snow? Will you blanket the ground below, where you'll be beautiful for the first time?





	Beautiful for the Last Time

Once they’re back in England, she’s faced with the worst bout of insomnia she remembers in a very long time. (Not since she was going through the early stages of mourning, she reckons, yet stubbornly refuses to even think of his name, now.)

Some nights, it feels like there’s a presence in her room, lurking just out of sight behind the drawn curtains and every single piece of furniture she owns. She’s long stopped seeking her own reflection whenever she passes her dressing table; partly as she hardly needs to be reminded of the signs of her advancing age as well as the horrifying ordeals she’s been through written all over her face, and partly because she fancies she can perceive something _in_ the mirror, patiently waiting for her to finally acknowledge it.

And yet, as hard as she struggles to ignore it, she can sense the mirror even now – lying in bed facing away from it, her eyes closed and her fingernails digging into her palms. There must be something she can do about it – anything, so long as she’s finally able to sleep, again.

Spurred into action by a sudden spell of irritation, she throws the bedclothes away, reaches for her dressing gown, and stalks over to the mirror as fast as her waning strength allows her to. She holds the candle in front of it, examining the surface; nothing unusual there, just an ordinary mirror, ever so slightly tarnished at the edges.

(When they got married, she insisted on a silver glass mirror – the silver coating as effective a protection as any, for warding off vampires and werewolves. As it turned out, there are far darker forces at work in the crevices of the world, and while she hopes all their efforts and the loss they’ve endured have not been in vain, she’s long learned her lesson that safety and peace is but an illusion, quick to dissolve in the wake of yet another occult power.)

Unthinkingly, she places one hand on the mirror frame, the sudden wave of sadness she perceives knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment. Dread laps the edge of her consciousness, a dark tide threatening to swallow her whole, only to ebb away as quickly as it flowed in.

Her arm still trembling, she places the candle onto the table and sits down, her reflection looking older now as it is shrouded in shadows than it does in broad daylight. She needs a way to communicate with whatever – whoever – is inhabiting the mirror, and she quickly runs through every form of divination known to her, until she realises with a jolt that the answer is sitting quite literally in front of her.

 _Of course_ , she utters under her breath, already rummaging through the drawers in search of anything that would serve her purpose. Jasmine oil will do just fine, she decides as she reaches for the bottle, pausing only for a moment before uncorking it and dipping the tip of her finger in.

She’s making it up as she goes along, but it still feels like she’s on the right track, somehow. She takes a deep breath, and lets her finger trace whichever symbol her subconscious is striving to project – a crossed circle that resembles a Celtic cross, glistening in the flickering candlelight.

 _I am listening_ , she articulates, reaching out tentatively with her mind. _Show yourself_.

The surface of the glass ripples in a series of concentric circles, and when it smoothes again, there’s a shape standing a few feet behind her mirrored image, and she doesn’t need to wait for him to step into the light to recognise his face.

“You,” she shakes her head in disbelief, and for a moment there, she doesn’t know whether to laugh, or cry.

He smiles, places one of his large hands on her shoulder – and she would swear she can almost feel his touch, tingling with the echo of her recent loss. “I never got the chance to properly say goodbye, and from the look of it, you could do with being reminded it was never your fault.”

“I know that, you – _idiot_.”

He pauses, looking suddenly unsure. “I’m sorry, Mrs Cavendish. Perhaps I’d better leave now?”

“Don’t you dare!” she snaps, irritably, and if there are tears running down her cheeks, they both pretend not to notice. “I didn’t spend all those nights staring at the ceiling, thinking of how we’d almost made it, for you to get off this lightly.”

“Well, it’s not as if I haven’t been punished for my foolishness already,” he mutters apologetically, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “But at least you all made it back, and that’s what truly matters.”

“I am a very old woman, Sebastian. If anyone had to perish before our quest was over, that should have been me.”

“You know just as well as I do that your daughter still needs you. And Dorothy, of course.”

She makes to open her mouth, then hesitates, wondering how much he knows about Joy and Dorothy. In the end, she decides it’s a subject best left untouched, at least for the time being.

“I suppose so,” she concedes at length, not entirely succeeding in suppressing a sigh. “It was still completely unnecessary, and you know it.”

“I know that now, yes,” he smirks, yet again failing to dissemble the sadness in his eyes. “But we did it, right? Those creatures, whatever they were – they’re back in the abyss, and the world is safe again.”

“Yes.” _For now_ , she thinks, but doesn’t say. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Cornelia tries for a smile, but refrains from looking in the mirror as she does so. “I hope you’re done haunting my bedroom now.”

He looks momentarily baffled, and then he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t call it ‘haunting’. You were calling for me, and I thought it would be rude to let it go unanswered.”

“I never,” she starts indignantly, only to immediately trail off. Not in her waking life, perhaps, but her dreams – or nightmares, as it happened – told a different story altogether.

“Thank you for coming, Sebastian,” she acknowledges at length, and she can feel the weight in her chest lift a little. “I suppose I should let you go now.”

“Probably for the best. Though they might let me come back, when, you know – when the time comes.”

She snorts, even in spite of herself, but she’s genuinely amused this time. “You mean, when I shuffle off this mortal coil? You can say it – if you must know, death comes considerably low on my list of things to be afraid of.”

“Yes, well.”

“But, I wouldn’t mind a familiar face around, to facilitate my passing. So, be aware I may take you up on your kind offer.”

He grins, and squeezes her shoulder – and she has to resist the impulse to put her hand over his, even when she knows well enough it’s not actually there.

“Until then, Mrs Cavendish – goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Sebastian,” she says, and wipes the sigil out.


End file.
